“Well,” remarked the President very deliberately, “in speaking of dividing lines, the situation in Missouri recalls the story of the old man who had an unruly sow and pigs.
One day, when they escaped from their enclosure and disappeared, he called his boys and started out to hunt the runaways.
Up one side of the creek they went; but while they discovered plenty of tracks and rootings, they found no hogs.
‘Now let us go over to the other side of the creek,’ said the old gentleman; but the result was the same-many signs but no pigs.
‘Confound those swine!’
exclaimed the old man, ‘they root and root on both sides, but it's mighty hard to find them on either.’
”

We, of course, were left to make the application to ourselves, and that was all the satisfaction we got.

Being greatly elated over our victory in the convention, and thinking it settled some, if not all, disputed points, we decided to return by way of Washington and again call on the President.
We wanted to come to some sort of understanding with him. As we had just voted against his nomination such a step may have been more audacious than our previous action.
But, for all that, a pretty late hour on the night of the convention found us at the door of the President's room, seeking an interview that had been promised us in answer to a telegram.

Now, we had in our delegation a gentleman who was accustomed to imbibe somewhat freely on occasions like that.
He had pushed himself to the front, and, when the door opened for us, in he rushed shouting: “Mr. President! Mr. President! ”

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